


and if i get burned, at least we were electrified

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Beard Burn, Beard Kink, F/M, That's it, happy anniversary to the married assholes who ruined my life, river is into it, that's the fic, twelve grows a beard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 07:45:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: When he stops shaving, she’s certain she’ll hate it.





	and if i get burned, at least we were electrified

**Author's Note:**

> Unabashed smut inspired by seeing pictures of [Peter Capaldi with a beard](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DDl0A4oWAAAJsBS.jpg). Story title from Dress by Taylor Swift.

When he stops shaving, she’s certain she’ll hate it. She remembers all too well the scraggly beard his younger self had sported after being held in Area 51 by the Americans. She remembers his squeak of protest when she cornered him in the TARDIS afterward with a blade and shaving cream, eager to get rid of the thing as soon as possible. It hadn’t suited him then, with his young face and gangly body. 

The memory of it is fresh in her mind when she looks up one morning and spots the stubble growing along the Doctor’s jaw. She sets aside her tea and studies him as he peruses Darillium’s morning paper in his robe, toast crumbs on his sleeve and hair in wonderful disarray. He looks so terribly domesticated that she can’t quite stifle a smile.

The five o’clock shadow creeps up his neck and covers his jaw, chin, and upper lip. River stares at it, biting her lip. “Darling,” she begins hesitantly, waiting for him to glance up. He does so instantly, tearing his eyes away from the page in front of him to give her his full attention. She does so love the piercing focus of those blue eyes. “Are you… growing a beard?”

His eyes crinkle like he can hear the disapproval she’d been trying oh so carefully not to give voice to. “Thinking about it,” he says, shrugging. “I am in retirement right now, after all.”

To her embarrassment, she swoons a little at the reminder and promptly loses all will to ask him to shave. Besides, she reasons with herself, even the slight stubble he’s sporting now suits him a great deal more than his last self. He’s more grown up now and the facial hair only highlights how much more mature this Doctor is. Still, she isn’t entirely on board with the idea of a bearded Doctor until he leans in to kiss her after breakfast.

He smells of tea and toast, bending to drop a casual, soft kiss to her cheek. His stubble scratches against her skin and as he wanders away to get dressed, River feels her stomach drop. Kissing the Doctor has always been her favorite thing in the universe but she can’t deny she’s grown rather accustomed to his kisses. They’re warm and familiar and still make her weak in the knees but they no longer surprise her. He’s spoiled her far too much for that.

His kisses are in turn comforting or passionate and sometimes even absent-minded in their domesticity and River treasures each and every one of them but the Doctor’s kisses are no longer the hearts-stopping adventure they’d been when she was young. At least, they hadn’t been before he brushed his lips against her cheek and left a stinging sensation behind.

From that moment on, his mouth on hers is nearly all she thinks about. She feels like she’s in University all over again, scheming to get him to kiss her when he drops by to visit. The obsession only grows with the length of his beard. His kisses burn her cheeks and leave her with a rather uncomfortable rash when he’s particularly thorough but the discomfort doesn’t stop her from wondering how that newly scruffy face would feel between her thighs.

By the time the Doctor’s stubble has grown into a full beard, River is nearly going mad with the possibilities. It grows in patches of different shades of white and dark gray and it somehow softens his sharp features just a bit. When combined with the wildness of his gray curls, those menacing brows, and cutting blue eyes, it’s enough to make her legs turn to jelly. She stares at him when he isn’t paying attention, fantasizing about that damn beard that has suddenly become the most erotic thing in the known universe.

The Doctor, bless him, is entirely oblivious.

They’re lying in bed one night, curled around each other while he tells her – between distracting kisses – the story of the time he met Robin Hood. He stops midsentence and frowns at her neck. His fingers follow his troubled gaze, stroking carefully at her throat, and she realizes he’s spotted the beard burn he’d given her this morning. He’d been particularly amorous, nuzzling into her lazily as they’d woken, and she’d enjoyed every delicious second of it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice adorably contrite. “I didn’t realize…I’ll shave tomorrow.” He shakes his head, still stroking his fingertips over the red patch of skin. “Bugger it, I’ll shave right now-”

River catches his wrist before he can climb out of bed and search out a razor in some misguided attempt to right a wrong that doesn’t exist. “Wait,” she says, pulling him back to her. “No need to be hasty, sweetie. I…” She hesitates to say it out loud, as if admitting it will cause his younger self to pop out of the wardrobe and stamp his foot about favoritism. “I like it.”

The Doctor blinks at her but the surprised delight on his face quickly shifts to skepticism. “River, I know you’ve been putting up with the beard for my sake but you’ve never been shy about how much you hate facial hair on me.” His mouth twitches. “Nearly butchered my last self trying to shave me against my will.”

She shrugs evasively. “That was a different body, darling.”

He frowns, brow furrowing. “The body matters?”

“Yes,” she mutters, darting a quick, interested glance at his scruffy face. “Apparently.”

The Doctor finally notices the desire darkening her eyes and stills, licking his lips. She follows the movement of his tongue with avid interest. “Really?” He asks, his voice an incredulous rasp.

She nods, mustering a glare. “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it on pain of death but between the two of us, sweetie…On this face of yours, I find that terrible beard…” She bites her lip. “Unbearably sexy.”

A slow, wide grin stretches his mouth. It shows all his teeth and scrunches his nose and it’s quite possibly the most ridiculous thing she’s ever seen but every single time he smiles at her like that she falls just a bit more hopelessly in love with him. Considering she’d given both her hearts to him a long time ago, it’s quite the accomplishment.

He surges forward, his hands cradling her face as he crushes his mouth to hers. It’s a hard, demanding kiss that River feels all the way to the ends of her hair. His beard scrapes her cheek and chin as he opens his mouth, sliding his tongue against hers – slow and sensuous and full of desire. She whimpers, heat unspooling all through her. She slides her palm over his rough cheek, loving the way it stings even after she pulls away, sinking her fingers into his thick head of curls to tug him closer.

The Doctor’s teeth tease at her bottom lip and when she shudders, he grins wickedly against her mouth. “Oh, shut up,” she breathes, and arches into him with a moan. He laughs quietly, hands fumbling blindly for the hem of her shirt. They break away from each other only long enough to tug it over her head before being drawn back to one another like magnets.

He kisses her hungrily, slanting his mouth over hers; his tongue sweeping a slow, filthy line across her teeth and the roof of her mouth. River clutches him to her with a groan, feeling his beard prickle bitingly into her oversensitive skin. Her mouth feels swollen and raw, rubbed ragged by the coarse hair covering his jaw and cheeks. It makes her writhe with desire, hot all over at the thought of him marking her so crudely, and she nudges impatiently against him.

The Doctor curls his hands around her hips and pins her to the mattress with a growl. “Don’t move,” he orders, and her breath hitches in her throat.

Sprawled across their bed in her knickers, she gazes up at him, eyes dark. “Will you spank me if I do?”

He shakes his head, hovering over her with a deliciously stern gleam in his eyes. “I think a better punishment would be withholding spankings,” he says, his voice low and rough as he lowers his head. “My bad girl.”

“Always, darling.” River squirms beneath him, panting as he scatters rough, wet kisses along her collarbone. He ignores the needy moans she releases in hopes of enticing him back to her mouth, drifting down her chest instead to plant kisses between her breasts. He licks all around her areola like an utter tease, clearly wanting to hear her beg him.

She wants to refuse – plans to, in fact. But his teeth scrape against the soft underside of her breast and his hot breath on her skin makes her shudder, goosebumps breaking out all over her body. She licks her sore, raw lips and the only thought in her head is how badly she wants to feel that gorgeous mouth of his suckling at her breast. River rubs her thighs together and _please_ slips out of her mouth against her will.

He smirks. She could happily punch that smug look off his face but he sucks her nipple between his lips and suddenly nothing is more important than gripping the sheets in her fist and leaning into the sinfully wet heat of the Doctor’s mouth. He hums around her breast, his slender hand still digging into the swell of her hip, thumb swiping soothingly across her skin. When she tries to touch him, he bites her.

River yelps, glaring.

The Doctor meets her gaze unrepentantly. “Don’t move,” he repeats, and his voice is gruff with sex. She swallows heavily, caught in his stare, and nods. “Good girl.”

As if in reward, he dips his head and rubs his stubbled cheek against her nipple. River gasps out loud, her whole body jerking. Heat trickles up her spine and she pleads without a thought for letting him hear her beg. “Oh god, honey,” she whimpers, shifting restlessly beneath him. “Do that again. Please…”

The Doctor grins and murmurs, “Thought you’d like that, little minx.”

He mouths at her once more and River grasps at the sheets. To her frustration, he doesn’t linger long, suckling one last time before he pulls away. The rasp of hair against her hard, wet nipple is enough to make her hips snap forward, arching off the bed despite his grip on her.

He smacks the flat of his palm hard against her outer thigh in retaliation and River gasps at the delicious sting of it, squirming. He doesn’t give her a moment to catch her breath and she cries out as he ducks his head and scrapes an angry red line down the length of her stomach with his cheekbone. He pauses just above her knickers, teeth sinking into her skin. She curls her fingers into the sheets and _wants_ so badly she can feel tears of frustration stinging her eyes.

As if sensing her steadily approaching breaking point – that is, pinning him beneath her and having her way with him – the Doctor hooks his slender fingers into her knickers and tugs them down her legs. He tucks them into his pocket and River huffs in amusement.

“Dirty old man,” she says fondly, and he quirks an eyebrow at her as he settles between her thighs. “Not that I mind.”

“What a relief,” he mutters dryly. His forearms curl around her legs as if to keep her in place, and as his warm hands rub circles over her hipbones, River feels her breathing falter. “I’ve been so worried.”

She clears her throat and manages a tart reply. “No one likes a smart mouth on the elderly.”

He glowers and nuzzles his face against her inner thigh, grinning when she whimpers at the scratchy prickle across her sensitive skin. “Well if I’m too old, I can always pop out and fetch Ramone-”

“Oh shut _up_ , you jealous idiot,” she breathes, shifting to open her thighs a little wider for him. “And put your ridiculous mouth on me.”

The Doctor plants a tender, open-mouthed kiss to the crease of her thigh and murmurs, “As my lady commands.” He shuts his eyes, leaning forward until he can surely feel the heat radiating from her sex, and that talented Scottish tongue of his slides out to part her swollen flesh. She throws her head back, ready to sink into the sensation of his clever mouth on her, but the Doctor pulls back and whispers into her thigh. “You’re dripping, my dear. Just the smell of you is enough to make my mouth water.”

She moans, digging her heel into his shoulder blade. “I do hope you’re planning to do more than wax poetic about how I smell, darling.”

He snorts, nipping at her thigh just to hear her whimper. “Much more, wife. But only if you behave.”

“Never,” she breathes out, and feels his tongue trace languidly around her entrance, tasting her arousal. She cries out, lifting her hips, and he treats her clit to maddeningly slow, teasing flicks of his pointed tongue. He doesn’t let up his filthy litany, pausing occasionally in his torturous licks to whisper to her, his hot breath against her sex enough to make her quiver with need.

Before, she might have threaded her hand through his hair and yanked his face against her cunt in an effort to get him to bloody well make her come already but the Doctor is unusually strict tonight. It’s too delicious and she doesn’t want to ruin it by taking charge when he’s this determined. Instead, she digs her nails into her palms and whinges in a voice so pitiful she scarcely believes it’s her own. “Gods, darling. _Please_ -”

He smirks but before she can decide to smother him with her thighs, he surges forward and presses a hot, enthusiastic kiss to her sex. His tongue snakes out, sliding expertly between her slick folds to thrust right into her, and River’s hips nearly lift off the mattress again. The contrast between the rough scratch of his beard and the warm wet of his mouth is nearly more than she can bear.

It stings – just on the edge of pain – but his clever mouth is so very good at making her feel incredible that the prickle of his beard only serves to make her hyper aware of every stroke of his tongue. She moans deep in her throat, lifting her head to watch him work so tirelessly between her legs, and feels a hot spike of arousal jolt through her when she finds him already looking back at her, blue eyes trained intently on her face.

Finally giving in to the need to touch him, River cards her fingers through his hair, rumpling it beyond measure. The Doctor doesn’t seem to mind, nudging his head into her palm in encouragement. His heated gaze doesn’t waver as he sucks on her aching clit and River writhes, wondering if it’s possible to die from wanting one’s husband so very much. Oh, she loves him like this. He’s ever so filthy when his mouth is on her – like he’d died and been reborn as this man with the sole purpose of making her scream.

As if reading her mind – and maybe he is – the Doctor, with his mouth sealed around her clit, meets her gaze and lifts an eyebrow. River makes a strangled noise, half laugh and half sob, and falls back to her pillow. His fingertips dig into her thigh as he delivers teasing licks and sucks to her heated flesh, occasionally bestowing her with deep, spearing thrusts of his tongue that make her eyes glaze over. The rough caress of his beard is an intoxicating counterpart to his soft, suckling lips – lush and wet as they part against her clit. He mouths at her like he’s starving; like he’ll never have his fill of her taste and his tongue will never be deep enough to satisfy his need to devour her.

“ _Oh_ ,” she whispers, and feels a new rush of arousal between her thighs as the thought flits across her scattered mind. The Doctor growls softly and she wonders if he tastes it, feels the new wetness seeping out of her and onto his tongue. She thinks of it soaking his beard and has to bite back a scream, whimpering as the image drives her closer than ever to the edge of oblivion. “ _Yes_ , honey…”

Her eyes flutter when his tongue unfurls inside her at a steady, dizzying pace – a soft, wet point of heat against a mass of scruffy hair. She slips her fingers through his hair again, hips undulating against his mouth. She’s hot all over, the burn between her thighs and in her abdomen is too delicious to resist for much longer, and she’s so wet she doesn’t understand how he isn’t drowning in her. When her thighs start to shake, the Doctor doesn’t dare pull away.

Every breath she takes is a high-pitched plea that fills their bedroom, guttural and bordering on a sob as her husband pushes her relentlessly closer and closer to release. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t let up his relentless pursuit, doesn’t even let her breathe as she starts to tighten around his perfectly Scottish tongue. He fucks her slow and deep and _oh yes_ just right – gripping her red, aching thigh and drawing it to his cheek to let her feel the coarse hair on his face.

River barely stifles a keening moan as she rocks against his mouth, riding him as his tongue plunges into her again and again; so dripping wet she barely reacts when his sharp nose bumps her clit. “Doctor-” He lifts his head and nudges his prickly chin against her oversensitive clit, pressing hard until she screams. Her heel digs painfully into his shoulder and her nails scratch at the sheets but her voice is hoarse and just on the edge of tears as she begs, “Yes honey, _yes_. Don’t stop, Doctor.”

He does, of course, but he’s an awful, wretched, wonderful man. With a smirk, he goes back to lapping at her folds and neglects her clit completely. River could scream – very nearly does until she feels him drawing swirling patterns across her sex with his tongue. _Gallifreyan_ , she realizes. Ancient, gorgeous words for love and sex and devotion and possession. And then a word she’d recognize anywhere. His name. It’s this – feeling that beautiful, forbidden word branded against her cunt – that finally tips her over the edge entirely.

As she cries out and her vision swims, the Doctor replaces his tongue with his slender fingers. He strokes her through her orgasm, murmuring tenderly to her. “That’s it sweetheart.” He rubs the pad of this thumb firmly over her clit and she writhes mid-orgasm, a helplessly strangled whimper caught in her throat. “There you are. Let me hear you, my bad, bad girl. _Mine_.”

When she’s aware once more of something other than the wild clenching of her sex and the blood rushing in her ears, River flutters open her eyes, blinking away stars to find the Doctor resting his head on her thigh. He wipes a hand over his damp beard and she feels her stomach tighten all over again.

“Come here, Time Lord,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.

He moves instantly, letting her grip him by the neck of the damn hoodie he still has on and tug him into her. He rests lightly on top of her, as if afraid he might crush her, and grunts when she yanks him the rest of the way. Despite his grumbling, his mouth opens eagerly over hers when she arches beneath him for a kiss. He tastes like her and River moans in approval, licking the remnants of her arousal from his lips.

It’s only when they part and he nuzzles into her neck without a thought for the erection she feels pressing into her thigh that she realizes how incredibly sore she is. Every inch of her feels rubbed raw, like she’d wallowed naked on sandpaper. She frowns, lifting her head to stare down at her body – utterly ravaged by the Doctor’s beard. She’s red and tender all over, an unsightly rash forming over her chest, stomach, and thighs.

“You’ve branded me,” she complains, attempting to sound cross and failing entirely. She still feels far too gloriously shagged to be cross about anything. “Barbarian.”

The Doctor lifts his head from her neck long enough to admire the damage he’s done. She watches a smug smile curl his infuriating mouth. He turns his head, his beard brushing her jaw and making her shudder all over again as he rumbles, “Red is a good color on you.”

“Idiot,” she murmurs, smiling as she laces her fingers together behind his neck. “Kiss it better?”

The Doctor trails his mouth down the bridge of her nose, then the corner of her lips, with a muttered warning. “Might make things worse.”

“Oh, darling.” River sighs blissfully, hiding a smile as she combs her fingers through his gray beard. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for.”


End file.
